


Hold On, Sam!

by writesupernatural (missjenna)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death Outside of Castiel or Dean Winchester, Gen, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:28:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missjenna/pseuds/writesupernatural
Summary: Prompt: Imagine Sam showing up extremely injured on your doorstep at midnightDrabble.





	Hold On, Sam!

You’ve just about fallen asleep when the knocking comes. Normally you’d ignore such a disturbance, but there was something about the pattern. It was an anxious kind of knocking where the knocker continuously pounded their fist at the door with no wait or pause.

"What is this?" you murmur as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes, "What's goin' on?"

You were exhausted, your limbs ached and your eyes felt as heavy as lead. The idea of getting up felt like a punishment, but you do. You get up and you start for the door of your apartment.

You reach for the doorknob in a daze, your hand gripping the cool surface. With your other hand, you move back the lock and pull open the door. It takes a moment for the sleep to leave your eyes and the haze to pass. You glare out at the person before trying to make sense of who they are. A familiar voice, gruff and level, calls your name, and it’s then that it all comes into focus.

Sam stands before you, beaten and bruised. A thin stream of blood dribbles from his clasped lips and his body sways on injured feet. Sleep leaves you in an instant and you reach forward to catch him as he teeters forward.

“Sam!” you gasp, “Sam, what happened?”

He says your name again and coughs, spraying blood onto your shoulder. His eyelids flutter and his heart races against your chest.

“Sam!” you cry, “Sam! Stay with me now!”

You duck beneath his arm and try to support him. He’s fading fast and you worry you won’t make it inside before he falls completely unconscious.

“I’m here,” you try, “Sammy please, you’re safe. Stay with me! I’m here.”

You back out of the doorway, closing the door behind you with your foot. Together the two of you move toward your bedroom. You lay him down on your bed and sit beside him, panting.

His eyes are closed but he’s moaning and muttering. You place your head to his chest and breathe easy when you hear the thump of his heart.

“Sam,” you sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

You want to stay there beside him, but there’s no time. You’re up again in no time, moving this way and that across your little apartment. You pull the ace bandages from the bathroom, grab the rubbing alcohol and a cloth. You place these items on your bedside table and then carefully begin removing Sam’s shirt. He cries out as you graze the wound, but other than that he doesn’t stir. You carefully pull the shirt over his head and once that’s done you assess the damage.

There’s two wounds, one across his shoulder blade and one across his lower stomach. The one near his shoulder is a clean cut, most likely a wound from a sword. The other is a bite mark, bigger than a vampire’s. Possibly a werewolf, you suppose. You grab the cloth and the rubbing alcohol and pour the latter into the cloth. Slowly you swab at his shoulder and then you move to his lower stomach. You’re barely touching him when he rears back, crying out.

“Sam! Sam, please I’m trying to help.”

His body’s withering with pain and though his eyes remain closed, he whimpers.

It’s at this point you feel your own eyes fill with tears. The last thing you ever expected to see was Sam in so much pain. It seemed he’d been through worse and come out stronger, but perhaps this was the real him. He was only human like you. The unstoppable hunter was only a role he played. This was him uncut, up close and personal. And it hurt you more than anything to see him in such a vulnerable state.

“Sam, calm down please. Sam, you’re scaring me.”

You want nothing more than to pull him into your lap and calm him, tell him everything’s going to be alright, but you can’t waste the time. His wounds are bad and you need to treat them as best and as fast as you can.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” you say, kissing him gently on the forehead. “It’s okay, please don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Oct. 2014]


End file.
